Literature
hell i admit it i'm proud of him
stolen kisses in moments that i got to keep just for us, listening for your voice amidst a crowd and always knowing just where you are; you're so stubborn. you're so stubborn, i love it about you, and i'm stubborn, too, and i love the way you stayed while i took way too long to say i needed you closer, but i tried to say it in so many other ways: a note taped up on my bedroom wall, a compliment in an email, a text, a meeting, a touch on your shoulder, an arm around your stomach, a hand on your hip, your shoulder, a kiss on your cheek when i thought i could excuse it away, a hand in your hair, standing too close, paying too much attention reading you too well, trying to take care of you when you let me get the chance to, they told me anger was secondary but they never told me to what, and i guess sometimes it's to love. sometimes it's hiding jealousy, the feeling of being trapped, the feeling of not wanting to be alone but not wanting to be where i am, the feeling of trying so